


A New Estate - Specials

by DarkHell616



Series: A New Estate - Specials [2]
Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Halloween, Holiday, Implied/Referenced Incest, Modern AU, Pumpkins, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12936612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHell616/pseuds/DarkHell616
Summary: A selection of specials that are seperate happenings of A New Estate, put here to not break the flow of the original story.There may be holiday specials, random chapter ideas or AU's in the future.





	1. Halloween

“Are you serious?”

I laugh and watch Robert set two large pumpkins down on the table, his blue eyes twinkling like a child in wonder.

“Very, I haven’t done this since I was young.”

He steps around the table to the wooden stand beside the stove and begins digging around inside the top drawer, the sound of the cutlery inside clashing together metallically fills the air around us.

My eyes roam over the orange boulders on the surface in front of me, reaching towards the closest one I feel its rough texture and run my fingers over the bumps.

“I have never carved a pumpkin.”

“Truly?” Robert hums into the drawer.

“Yes, I don’t think Father liked the idea of my having a sharp object in my hand.”

He pushed the drawer shut with a small bang and stepped back around the table, setting a variety of cutlery on top of the table in front of us as he sat down opposite me.

“Are you that dangerous?”

The mischievous glint in his eye made me raise my hand over my mouth to laugh, looking away so his cheeky smile wouldn’t be more contagious than it already was.

“What can I say? I have bit of a temper on me.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

I quirk my eyebrow and throw him my own attempt at a mischievous smirk, my hand sliding over the top of the table to grab one of the large knives he had set down.

His eyes watch my fingers curl around the handle and drag the blade closer towards me, my other hand lying on top of the pumpkin.

“That’s just creepy,” he laughs.

“I’m just getting into the holiday spirit.”

“A little too well I think.”

Robert places a large hand on the top of his own pumpkin and drives the knife into the top at an angle, with a grunt from the effort he begins to saw the knife around to make a jagged and uneven circle in the top.

I watch him with fascination, almost revelling in the effort it takes just to get inside and create a lid.

After a few moments, he glances up from his sawing and gives me a friendly smile.

“Aren’t you going to join in?”

“Oh, yes,” I startle, almost as if I had forgotten why I was there in the first place.

With an almost shy laugh, I stand up to get better height than my sitting position offered and pushed down on top of the pumpkin.

Biting my lip in concentration, I copy the same angle Robert had gone for and pushed the tip of the knife inside, this took more effort that I had anticipated and as the blade sunk in the smell of the fruit enhanced and momentarily caught me off guard.

I once again look over to Robert and see he had created a lid for his pumpkin, which he held up with one hand whilst using the knife to cut away any straggling inside that remained stuck to the separated piece.

Turning my attention back to my orange enemy, I lean over and begin fighting with the knife in the top of my own pumpkin, my breaths coming out in ragged puffs as I struggle to get the blasted thing to move.

A low chuckle rises from the opposite side and I snap my head over, glaring at Robert.

“Is something funny?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, failing at hiding his lie. “Except, it’s hard to take you seriously as a dangerous woman when you can’t even get a knife out of a pumpkin.”

“I’ve never done this before,” I cry, more defensively than I initially planned.

My attention turns back fully to the pumpkin and the knife, one hand steadying the fruit to the table as I pull on the hilt of the blade and watch as it slowly dislodges itself.

Robert steps back around the table and begins his rummaging again, though I pay no mind to what he wanted to find this time. Instead I focus solely on the pumpkin as he rattles around behind me, eventually setting down two bowls between our fruits.

I jump and let out a small squeak as Robert’s hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist, his other resting on my hip.

“Allow me, I’d hate for you to harm yourself, I fear one cut and your father would have me hanged.”

I sigh and nod, letting go of the knife and allowing him to take over.

“Alright, but it’s only because I have no practice.”

“Of course,” he laughs. “Now, how about you begin to scoop out the insides of mine?”

“Why, I’d be honoured sir.”

He steps aside to allow me the space to push my chair back and stand, moving around the table to sit in Robert’s previous seat. As I sat down and tucked the chair in, he remained standing and sawed at the top of my pumpkin with more ease than I had.

I grab a large tablespoon and tilt Robert’s pumpkin, looking inside I see all the spindly, orange strings with large white seeds scattered throughout. For precautions sake, I roll the sleeves of my dress up to my elbows to make sure they didn’t get sullied.

“This brings back so many memories,” he sighed.

“Good ones I hope.”

“Without a doubt,” Robert nodded, glancing at me. “I used to do this with my mother when I was younger.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“It was, she is an amazing woman.”

“To have raised a hard working son like you, I’m sure she was.”

Robert let out a short huff of a laugh, nodding a little.

“I think you’d get on wonderfully with her.”

“We’ve only known each other for about three weeks now, it’s a little early to consider parent meeting isn’t it?” I laugh.

“I work for your father.”

“Yes, you are being paid to be here, there’s a difference as I have no reason to logically meet your mother, it’s not as if we’re courting.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he shrugged. “Though perhaps it’s worth it to try her pumpkin pie.”

“She made pie?”

“Yes, it’s a tradition in my family, my mother and I would bake the seeds and make pumpkin pie,” he smiled fondly, still sawing through my pumpkin.

“That sounds lovely,” I smile back, dropping a dollop of fruit guts into the bowl he had given me.

“It was, but I haven’t done that in years,” he shrugged, removing the detached lid.

“Not since I moved out of home, it’s not as much fun when you live by yourself.”

“Oh? You live alone?”

“Very much so.”

“But a gentleman like you surely has a lady who he would visit or would invite over for dinner.”

“If I did, a true gentleman I would remain and not reveal such details,” he laughed, “but alas, I do not.”

I couldn’t tell whether he had picked up on my subtle hint or not, but his more than cordial answer was well received.

There was no denying the fact that I was drawn to Robert, he was a charming man who offered wonderful company.

He was certainly appealing to the eye as well, but that was merely an added bonus.

Altogether, he was a welcome break to the usual men I had to associate with growing up.

“Well, perhaps we can make this a yearly thing,” I laugh. “You can travel all the way out here and we’ll carve pumpkins together to spook the undoubtedly high number of trick or treaters I shall receive.”

Robert chuckled, glancing at me with a wide smile of amusement.

“I think I’d like that, do you require me to dress up as well? I make a very dashing vampire.”

“Oh, I do love a bit of dressing up.”

“Then perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”


	2. Modern AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring more Thomas Sharpe than any of my previous chapters!

My excitement over my new house was immeasurable.

It had taken me years of begging for overtime and even longer of saving up from my little bookseller job to get this place and now it was finally mine.

Each week I’d check to make sure the place was still up for grabs, my spirits lifting each time I saw that it was still vacant.

Over the years I’d had a few heart attacks whilst glancing at the listing and seeing it finally occupied, only for it to be back up about a month later, if that.

No reason stated, but I didn’t need to know any previous owners reasons for leaving, I had my own for wanting that specific home.

That lot was where the once amazingly dilapidated Allerdale Hall stood.

Although now it was nothing like how it was documented back in the late nineteenth century, the original manor had been torn down and many years later the land had been covered with something more suited for the growing population and expanding town that was spreading further into the once vast nothingness.

I had read in a book I’d ordered into work that some of the newer house had pieces of the original manor still salvaged and built into the structure.

After reading one Edith Cushing’s more biographical books, another one I’d ordered into work after stumbling across her ghost stories, I knew that I needed to get this place.

With luck, I’d managed to scrounge my way here and now my heart sang with pleasure.

The new neighbourhood had so far proven to be amazing, although one of the neighbours had proven to be a little surly, Old man Harris had barely offered a grunt to my cheery greeting as I carried boxes into my new home.

I’d only learned his name was Harris when his wife had scolded him for being so grumpy by snapping his name.

It was no skin off my nose though, I preferred keeping to myself anyway.

It had, however, been lovely when she’d popped over with a homemade Victoria sponge cake with fresh cream, I’d almost died and gone to Heaven.

Over the course of the days she had proven to be a delight, clearly they were an odd couple who worked perfectly and that just warmed me.

I had yet to meet my neighbour on the other side, all I’d learned was that he was called Jonathan and he seemed to be one of the younger residents of the street who preferred to be alone.

A man after my own heart.

I’d wasted no time to get set up for decorating, by the second day I had planned out each rooms design and by the third everything was sorted and ready to get going.

My excitement pushed past the typical procrastination I’d seen spewed on my online profiles about the mundane acts of packing and decorating a new home.

With a wide smile, I had plugged in the small radio and had tuned it into the first half decent sounding radio station I could find.

Then I was ready to start taping up the skirting boards and putting down newspaper for protection against the fresh paint, the radio was turned up to a level that I hoped was loud enough for me to hear clearly but also to not disturb either of my neighbours.

Time seemed to fly by and before I knew it, it had reached one thirty in the afternoon and I had been decorating for about four hours.

As Billy Idol cried his Rebel Yell for More, More More, I set foot into the kitchen to wash the paint off my hands and grab a well earned bit of food.

I merrily bounced around in my seat to the music, eagerly eating the sandwich I had prepared and drinking the orange juice I’d taken from the fridge.

It was setting out to be a lovely afternoon already and I was eager to continue my day, even if I also didn’t want time to go by so quickly.

I hadn’t realised that I’d started to get lost in my thoughts, thinking of a celebratory cake I’d bake for myself once the kitchen decoration was finished, until a disruption in the music pulled my attention back to the radio and thus reality.

The music had stopped and instead of the melodic sounds of some current singers’ voice that I usually tuned out, they all sounded the same these days anyway, was the sound of static interspersed with random bouts of someone talking.

“What the hell?” I mumble to myself, standing from my seat, “I don’t recall entering Silent Hill.”

My skin tingles unpleasantly as I make my way back into the living room, the air changing and becoming stiller, colder and somehow thicker.

It almost seemed to become harder to breathe the closer I go to the room, every now and then I found myself swallowing gulps of thick air.

“I’ve seen enough Supernatural to know where this is going,” I whisper, trying to lighten my own mood and ease my mind.

I had barely stepped into the doorway when I saw it.

Not that anything out of place would be hard to spot in an empty, half decorated room that only held paint, brushes newspaper and a radio that sat atop a small table.

My heart jolted as I watched an almost pure white figure lean over the radio, their long fingers fiddling with the dial as their head tilted to the side like a confused dog.

My breath hitched in my throat at the sight of the peculiar figure and their old style clothing, almost as if they were merely an actor playing a Dickens character who had happened upon my house.

“What are you doing?”

The figure froze for a brief moment before letting go of the dial and standing up straight, looking at me over their shoulder.

I find myself gasping at his gaunt and yet still handsome features of hollowed eyes set within a thin face that brought out sharp cheekbones as they only could on someone deceased or malnutritioned, his eyes were wide with bewilderment but I found myself more distracted by the swirl of a red mist like substance, that I presumed was blood, that floated towards the ceiling.

“You can see me?” He asked in an astonished tone.

I falter in my response as my emotions mix together, there was a hint of amazement with a dash of glee at finally witnessing a ghost, which also mixed with a hint of fear and adrenaline at coming face to face with something I had loved and yet never encountered before.

All of this caused my brain to creep to a stop.

“That blood isn’t going to stain my ceiling, is it?”

As soon as the words left my mouth I felt foolish and found myself sighing whilst briefly closing my eyes in self exasperation.

He moved a hand to the cut under his eye, his fingers sliding along the wound and when they were pulled away a swirl of ghostly blood rose from the tips.

“I highly doubt that to be honest,” he finally answered with a soft smile.

I stare at him a moment longer then clear my throat to try and alleviate my awkwardness.

“I’m sorry for being a little slow here but what the hell is going on? Why are you in my house?”

“Not to be presumptuous, but I do believe that I lived here long before you did and whilst it may be a new design this is still very much my house.”

My eyes widen as I continue to stare, not intending to be rude but finding it hard to look away from the newly discovered ghost of my home.

“So I’m guessing that you must be Sir Thomas Sharpe?”

He looked at me quizzically, his eyes narrowing a little.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“I’ve more than just heard of you, I’ve read all about you, your sister and the occurrences of Allerdale Hall, that’s why I bought this place.”

Thomas frowned and turned away from me, forcefully paying more attention to the radio he had been fiddling with than me.

“I don’t understand why anyone would want to purchase a house of such shameful history.”

“Shameful?”

“Many details people aren’t aware of occured within the walls of my home, this is why I refuse to let anyone live in a place that is even partially built from it.”

I step closer to him, trying to ignore the cold that was building as I neared.

“Are you why people have fled this place?”

“Yes, it is better they don’t stay long enough for Lucille to notice them.”

“Your sister? She’s here?”

“We all are,” he replied, finally looking back at me.

His solemn expression filled me with likewise sadness and I began to feel awkward again, only this time it was from not knowing how to help him and make things better.

“Though truthfully you are the first to see me,” Thomas continued.

“And truthfully to you, Sir Sharpe, you’re the first ghost I’ve officially met.”

He gave me a side glance and a wry smile, huffing out a small laugh.

“I suppose that I’m honoured.”

“I am too, very much so, though you did interrupt a very good song.”

“I can only apologise, I just found myself drawn to this strange thing,” he commented, leaning back down to the radio and fiddling with it again.

“The radio?”

“Yes, how do they get music to play from this tiny box? With such varying instruments, some of which I’ve surely never heard before!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his childlike wonder over something I had taken for granted for years, there was something endearing about watching a centuries old spirit get excited over an old radio.

Something so old to me was so new to him and to witness the difference in attitudes was amazing.

“I’ll tell you what,” I start, waiting for him to signal that I had his attention before continuing, “I shall tell you about our modern contraptions if you try to keep me protected, or at least warned, about the other spirits here.”

Thomas observed me for a while and then smiled, a true smile that reached his eyes this time, as he nodded.

“It’s pleasant to finally be seen, therefore it would be foolish for me to refuse.”


	3. Who You Gonna Call? - Modern AU

“Who are you going to call?”

“Bloody hell!” I start at the sudden voice coming from behind me.

My heart beats a millions times faster and I have to hang my head to let in a deep breath, one that quickly turned into a laugh as I set down the spoon I had been using and turn to face my guest.

“Demons, Thomas, are you trying to make me join you in the afterlife?”

“Pardon me, I did not mean to startle you like that.”

The sincere look on his pale face caused my heart to melt and there was no doubt that had I been mad about him making me jump, I would have wound up feeling bad about it in the end.

“It’s fine, I mean you’re a ghost, it’s kind of what they do,” I joke, calming myself back down.

“Only when we’re feeling a little mischievous,” he smiled.

“You do seem like the mischievous type,” I roll my eyes with a smile of my own, turning back to my milk that was boiling on the ring. “Now, what did you ask?”

“I asked who you were going to call.”

I raise an eyebrow, briefly glancing at him over my shoulder as I stirred the warming milk.

“Why do you ask that?”

“You kept chanting that earlier this morning and it had me a little worried.”

My brows furrow in thought as I try to remember what I had been doing earlier that morning and how it could be significant to the situation.

“Worried about what?”

“About you calling in these ‘Ghostbusters’, I’m not sure I appreciate the sentiment behind that, I didn’t think that I was that much of a nuisance.”

I lift my head and laugh at the realisation as the memory came back from this morning after my shower.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he replied in a slightly snappish tone, “if you aren’t afraid of any ghosts why would you wish to ‘bust’ us?”

“Thomas, sweetie, no,” I giggle again, moving the pan from the heat and setting it on the sideboard so I could look at him without fear of my milk bubbling over and burning the ring. “It was a song, a theme song to a popular series.”

“It didn’t sound like you were singing,” he frowned, his eyes averted from me.

“Technically I wasn’t, I was being lazy whilst getting dressed and just kind of spoke the lyrics, I know it’s a lame excuse but I would never dream of ‘busting’ you or your sister, who I still haven’t met by the way.”

“So you don’t plan on bringing in people to deal with us?”

“I can assure you, if I planned on bringing in people to deal with you, I’d choose two people a lot more qualified than the Ghostbusters,” I grin at my own mental image, earning a confused look from him.

“I am not entirely sure I know what you mean, but I shall trust you.”

I give him a nod and a thumbs up before turning back to my prepared cup that sat there waiting for my to finally finish preparing the hot chocolate I’d been craving all morning.

“So wait, you have full awareness that you’re a spirit?” I ask, wanting to fill the silence between us, “seems like a bit of a cruel fate.”

“It’s not exactly hard to figure out when the world is shifting around you and yet you remain the same,” he laughed good naturedly.

“You’d be surprised it seems, many ghosts and spirits get stuck in a rut of their past lives, never moving forward.”

“Oh that, not at all, we just do that to mess around with you living a little bit, we have to get our fun from somewhere.”

I look at him in bewilderment, my eyebrows raised towards my hairline, “You talk to other spirits?”

“Oh yes, we have regular ghost meetings and everything.”

I was about to voice my scepticism but he beat me by bursting out laughing with the most playful smile I had ever seen adorn his face, there was something childlike about it that made him look so innocent despite his gaunt appearance.

“Of course I am merely playing with you,” he confirmed after calming down.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re bit of an ass?” I huff just as playfully, folding my arms across my chest.

A strange emotion flashes through his eyes and his smile turns from one of playfulness into one of fondness as his gaze bores into mine, making my heart race faster than it was before.

“Not to my face,” he replied in a soft whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the lack of new chapter, I've decided to give you guys a small bit of fluff. I promise the next chapter will be out soon, now that work shifts have slowed down a little and I am speeding through some stories.   
> I hope this makes up for it! (And that you guys catch onto the little link from one of the chapters of the main story ;))


	4. The Sister - Modern AU

It was still pitch black when I was jarred awake by a loud thumping sound coming down the hall, in my hazy sleep it seemed reminiscent of a dog running around and crashing into any obstacle in its way.

The noises were accompanied with what sounded like rushed talking and short outbursts of yelling, or at least screams of frustration that could be registered as human.

The hushed talking seemed to get more desperate the further down the hall the cries got and soon they were mere feet outside my bedroom door.

I throw the duvet away from my overheated body and languidly get out of bed, my head still pounding from the stomach bug that had kept me home from work that day.

My legs felt unused from my day in bed and by the time I’d managed to shuffle to the door, more yells and crashes had sounded from in the hall.

A hiss of; “Lucille, calm down,” was whispered just as I pulled the door open and poked my head out, my head protesting at me even standing let alone trying to see through the darkness.

Another yell of outrage soon pierced through my already splitting skull and I was half tempted to step back into my bedroom, close the door and let Thomas deal with whatever was happening alone, but I knew that deep down I’d feel bad for leaving him to it by himself.

One of my hands felt along the wall to the right of the doorframe as I searched for the light switch, though I instantly regretted it when the bright light burst into the room and burnt my eyes to the point where I had to squint until they readjusted.

“Get out!”

My heavy and still adjusting eyes could barely make out any detail but a black blur of a figure mere feet away from me, but as they adjusted and I could finally open them properly I found myself staring at a tall spectre unlike anything I had imagined.

The pictures and descriptions I had seen of Lucille didn’t match the twisted spirit she had become, the pitch black and ashen look complimented the horrifying tales I had read about her.

Her visage was a stark contrast to Thomas’, it was almost as if they were representing opposite sides; yin and yang, dark and light, innocent and evil.

“Stay away from my Thomas!”

I barely had time to react as she moved towards me, her unnatural speed catching me off guard and had she not jittered back a step or two as she swung her knife it was sure to have imbedded itself into me.

The knife, much like Lucille herself, was ethereal, pure black and seemed to have ash rising from it, from where I stood I could clearly see that the blade of the knife hadn’t sunk into the wall rather than seem to have passed through it, yet the thunking sound the wall made gave illusion to a real impact.

My heart raced with fear and anxiety, but I found myself unable to move from the spot I was frozen on, instead my eyes remained on Lucille as she turned to glare over her shoulder where Thomas had hold of her free arm.

It seemed as though he was able to grab her arm and pull her back just a little, at least enough to stop her from hitting me with her weapon just in time.

“Let me go,” Lucille demanded as she tugged to free her arm.

“Lucille, you need to stop,” he replied with a tone of wavered authority.

“Not until she leaves,” she replied in a shrill and unstable voice, “I won’t have her taking you from me.”

Despite her tone, I could see that her posture had relaxed a little as she addressed her brother and the arm wielding the knife gradually dropped to her side.

Thomas moved to step in front of her, acting as a shield between us both before enveloping her into a tight and comforting embrace.

“No one is taking me from you, I am always yours, so please stop it.”

Although I couldn’t see his face, there almost seemed to be something scornful behind his words, not that Lucille appeared to notice as she relaxed into her brother’s arms.

For a brief moment I could have sworn that their ghostly appearances flickered before my eyes and they momentarily appeared as alive as anyone else.

“Wow, she stopped just like that,” I manage to gasp out, my already fatigued body still barely moving as I stared at the scornful look she was giving me over Thomas’ shoulder. “She listens to you?”

“On occasion, we have a…” he paused briefly and glanced over his shoulder, the expression on his face becoming somehow sombre, unsure and yet comforted, “…connection.”

I stare at him in a heavy silence, my sick mind slowly clicking back and forth in my tiredness before finally putting pieces together to a puzzle that I hadn’t been aware was there.

The look of almost shame, her outburst of claiming him as hers and how seemingly resentful yet protective he was of her.

“Oh, alright,” I nod slowly, clearing my throat, “I also have brothers and I have to say that the connotation in how you said that made it a bit weird.”

Thomas’ face fell a little and his eyes diverted away from me, his lips drawn into a thin line and instantly dashing my hopes of him denying the assumption I had managed to jump to.

Lucille had a twisted look of victory as she gave her brother a brief tight squeeze before evaporating into ash, gradually disappearing into the air.

“It’s just-“

“No!” I hold my hands out and shake my head, “no, no it’s fine, you do you man, it’s not something I necessarily agree with but hey, I’m just going to go back to bed and ignore everything that just happened.”

“I’d rather you stayed so we could speak about this,” he almost pleaded, the look in his eyes tugging at my heart.

“I’d really like to get back to bed, I feel awful.”

“Then I’ll escort you to your room.”

I felt as if I had no real choice as Thomas took a step forward, the horrible look of a kicked puppy who was still happy to see you making me feel terrible for even thinking of saying no.

So with a sigh of resignation I allow him to walk me the few feet back to my bed, which was probably for the best as the house was plunged into darkness after I’d turned the hall light off.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, rubbing the side of my temple to try and ease some of the pain as I sat back down on the mattress.

“She gets like that sometimes, it’s as if she’s reliving her final moments that were less than sane.”

“’Less than sane’?” I quote with a faint laugh.

“I have no other way to put it,” he shrugged with a wry smile, “but sometimes she gets stuck like that.”

“Ah, a death echo, got it,” I nod.

“A what?” He asked.

“I’ll explain another time,” I sigh, lying back down and curling up under my duvet once again, “right now I just want some sleep.”

“You aren’t well,” he stated rather than asked.

“To put it lightly and I’d like to go back to sleep before I end up emptying my stomach again.”

“So we also can’t talk about…”

“No, Thomas, not right now.”

The room fell silent, but even with my eyes closed I knew that he was still stood beside my bed and I had to tell myself to sleep and get better before delving further with the Sharpe siblings.


	5. The Bride - Modern AU

“Do you know what happened to her?”

I look up from my laptop, a little startled at Thomas’ sudden appearance as his voice ripping me from my writing and breaking my concentration.

It was just past half past two in the morning, an unusual time for him to visit, unless Lucille was having one of her episodes he usually left me alone after midnight to let me relax and get on with whatever I wished to do in peace.

It had been a strange moment compromising with a ghost who had only had a select few other spirits to communicate with over the years.

He was surprisingly considerate for a dead guy.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, who?”

“Edith.”

His sad expression pulled at my heartstrings and I started to think that I understood why he had broken our agreement and come to see me so early in the morning.

“Not fully, but I know bits and pieces,” I answer softly, giving him a gentle smile with the hopes of showing that I was there if he needed me.

“Do you know if she led a happy life after she left Allerdale Hall?”

“I’m afraid I can’t really say, I know she went on to marry a doctor and I believe they had a kid or two.”

“Dr. McMichael?”

“I’m guessing?” I briefly look back to my laptop and save my document before shifting around to stand on the bed I was sitting on in order to reach the shelves high above me. “Give me one second, I’ll have a look.”

“You have books about this place? Or at least what it once was.”

“Technically, I suppose,” I laugh, pulling one of the books from its place on a shelf above the headboard of my bed, “I have more books that contain bits and pieces about Allerdale, only Edith has written a book entirely about this place.”

“Edith did?”

The smile that overtook his solemn expression was small, but still albeit one of undeniable emotion and I’d dare say pride.

“She did,” I nod in confirmation whilst sitting down and beginning to flick through the book in my hands, “you truly loved her, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Thomas’ smile widened a little as his eyes softened, “or still do I suppose.”

“Did you at least get to say goodbye?”

He nodded slowly, his sad frown returning, “Though I thought I moved on after, it seems Lucille’s will to keep me around pulled me back.”

“Trapped by your own sister, that sucks.”

“She loves me,” he answered a bit too quickly, his tone defensive and yet still weak and sounding uncertain.

“I can’t deny or argue with that,” I concede, looking up at him once again, “tell me more about Edith.”

Thomas smiles once again and begins to feed me small bits of information, how beautiful she was, how intelligent and creative she was, how he didn’t deserve someone like her after everything he had assisted Lucille in.

I was glad that I had managed to distract him from delving further into a spiral of resentment and regret, something that I would never want to inflict on him purposefully.

However, despite how my heart ached for him as he relayed story after story I still found myself getting just a touch jealous, I’d never been in love nor had anyone love me the way he so clearly did Edith and the more I heard the more I wanted it for myself.

I felt bad for thinking along more selfish lines when Thomas was obviously having a difficult night, but I couldn’t help myself.

As Thomas spoke, I continued to flip through the book I’d taken down until I’d reached the page I needed and waited for a pause in Thomas’ talking.

“Yeah, here we go, Dr. Alan McMichael.”

Knowing that he could still touch things around the house, I turn the book around and set it down at the edge of the bed.

His gaze immediately drifted down to the open pages, no doubt at the portrait of Edith that was taken for an old newspaper article about an upcoming female author.

“There’s a small biography in that news article they put in there, you’re welcome to read over it at your leisure and tomorrow I’ll find the rest of the books with more information in and of course Edith’s book.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, almost looking uncertain.

“Of course,” I laugh faintly, nudging the book a little to indicate that he was welcome to it, “it’s a bit of closure, right? You clearly felt strongly for her, this only seems fair that you learn what happened after everything.”

Thomas’ smile made my heart flutter and he knelt down at the bedside, his fingers grazing over the picture of Edith, his eyes never leaving the page.

I watch him for a brief moment before pulling my laptop once again and continuing to write, settling into the calm silence that was only broken by the sound of my heater rotating from side to side in the middle of the room, offering us both a gentle light.


	6. The Neighbour - Modern AU - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some modern Robert, seeing as I know a few people like him!  
> Maybe I should run a competition "Win your own quality time with Robert!"

“What’s with all of the commotion?”

I briefly glanced over my shoulder as Thomas stepped up beside me before returning to my previous stance of staring out of the window, my arms folded across my chest.

“It looks like I’m getting a new neighbour across the way.”

“Really?”

Despite his being a spectral being, I could still feel as his significantly taller figured loomed over my shoulder to watch out of the window.

“Indeed,” I hummed, tilting my head a little as the tall man outside stepped out of the van with another box in his hands. “You know, from here he looks remarkably a lot like-“

“Me.”

I quirked an eyebrow and looked at Thomas, unable to hold back a small chuckle.

“Well yes, but I was going to say an actor I know of.”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded slowly before twitching his head towards me, “wait, doesn’t that mean that I also look like this actor?”

“Yes, it’s remarkable really,” I smiled with a shrug, “but welcome to the noughties where everyone looks like someone, I know of at least five doppelgangers that I have.”

I stepped away from the window and turned to face him, giving him a brief once over.

“As I said everyone looks like someone these days, in fact my brother’s girlfriend looks remarkably like Edith from the pictures I’ve seen of her.”

“She does?”

The way is eyes softened made my stomach clench a little and a pang of guilt pulled at me harshly, I hadn’t meant to trudge up old feelings with that comment.

“She does, I mean who knows? Maybe she’s a descendant of her bloodline.”

“Do you think I’ll see her one day?”

“Don’t even think of perving on my brother’s girlfriend.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in an expression of shock and offense, a look that I couldn’t recall seeing before from him and that admittedly made me laugh.

“Do you truly think I am of that sort?”

“To be fair I barely know you in that regard,” I grinned in response, heading towards the kitchen.

Thomas stayed behind and one look over my shoulder showed that he had taken up my previous spot in the window, no doubt watching the new neighbour moving his things in and out of his house.

I had been watching him for about fifteen minutes before Thomas showed up and had immediately noted the similarities between the two, despite the spirit being undeniably deader and my new neighbour having a rather chipper bounce to his step that was accompanied by a friendly smile as he worked.

From outside the sound of the movers calling back and forth to one another broke the silence that usually enveloped the street, by the sounds of it one of them had dropped something.

This was no surprise, moving rarely ever went smoothly and I only hoped that nothing of valuable had been dropped if that were the case.

“Are you going over to say hello?”

I flipped the switch on my kettle then turned to look at Thomas once again, leaning my back against the countertop and shrugging.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Why not?”

“You know I’m not good at approaching people,” I sighed, pushing away from the side and opening the cupboard to take out one of the many mugs hidden inside. “I always worry that I’ll be bothering someone.”

He hummed a little as a response and let me go about preparing the components of my drink before speaking up again, his voice raised a little to talk over the bubbling water inside the kettle.

“I think you should.”

“And why is that?”

“You could use some friends.”

“I have plenty of friends!” I cry defensively, looking at him as if he had just slapped me with the biggest revelation of the century.

“Perhaps, but not many ‘close’ friends.”

“Of course I do, there’s Leo and Bl-“

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, “No, I mean in proximity, ones you can meet with regularly.”

My mouth falls into a silent ‘oh’ and I could only give a strange mixture of a shrug and a nod in reply.

Thomas was right after all.

One of my best friends lived in another country, my other was only an hour away by train but worked so often I barely got to see him.

Naturally I had work friends, but our schedules were usually so tied up that we went out maybe one every few months and whilst those nights were great it wouldn’t hurt to have someone who was nearer and easier to visit.

The kettle switch clicks to indicate that the water had finished boiling and I begin to pour the steaming liquid into my mug, all the while thinking of how you would even approach a new neighbour in a way that didn’t seem to come out of an old film.

Over the years I’d had new neighbours, but only once had it been a case of all smiles and offers of cake and that when I’d first moved into Ye Olde Crimson Peak, as I liked to call it much to Thomas’ chagrin.

“Wait,” I paused momentarily in my stirring, looking back at Thomas, “why do you care how many friends I have?”

“Well, I believe it is good for everyone to have a social life that extends further than the peculiar gadgets you have these days.”

I watched him as he spoke, the way his eyes shifted and his shoulder hunched made me narrow my eyes a little.

“There’s something about that guy that intrigues you, isn’t there?”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve never cared about my socialising habits before and now a neighbour turns up, who so far seems to look like you and suddenly you want me to ‘make friends’.”

Thomas stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and huffing.

“Okay, so perhaps he does intrigue me, but I have my reasons.”

“And what reasons would they be?”

“As of yet, I’m unsure.”

Thomas disappeared without another word and left me alone in my kitchen, warm mug clasped in my hands and a million questions buzzing in my head.


	7. The Neighbour - Modern AU - Part Two

“So, have you met the new man on the block yet?”

I looked at Mrs Harris who was smiling widely whilst cutting into a mouth wateringly gorgeous chocolate cake, my stomach grumbled at the sight and I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into the sugary sweet.

We had started a regular routine of having a gossip over some tea at least once a month since I had moved in, I believed it was because she liked having company who wasn’t her miserable husband to talk to.

So inviting me over had become the perfect excuse for her to bake her delectable cakes and tell me stories of people I had never met in my life, but I could guarantee that were I to meet them I would know more about them than their own family.

Our next treat session just so happened to be three weeks after the new guy moved in and there was something refreshing about talking about him as opposed to what the woman running the salon did that weekend that was so scandalous.

“Oh, no not yet,” I laughed softly, taking the offered plate.

“You simply must, he is such an angel,” she gushed, “so sweet and soft spoken.”

“I’ll talk to him eventually.”

“I think you two will get on swimmingly and he’s single too.”

My fork froze halfway towards my mouth as I shoot her a look of confusion, my eyebrow rising towards my hairline.

“Um, okay?” I laughed, finally putting the eagerly awaited sponge into my mouth and using the time it took to chew and swallow to come up with an apt response. “I don’t think Mr Harris would appreciate you picking up a toy boy whilst you’re still married.”

She let out her loud cackle of a laugh and banged her hand on the table, she was a jolly woman and laughed at almost everything.

It wasn’t an issue that she had a loud laugh, even if it made me wince as it pierced my ears, my main concern was for the surface of whatever she habitually slammed her hand onto when she started as the many rings decorated her fingers was sure to pack quite a punch and cause a lot of damage.

“Good heavens girl, no!” Her tone made it sound like this should have been the most obvious thing in the world, “I was talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, oh you would be such a perfect match,” she hummed merrily, “you’re a pretty girl and he is a handsome lad, he has a cute dog too.”

“I really don’t think tha-”

“I think it would do you some good, rather than sitting around in that dusty old house you could go on jogs with him.”

“He jogs? That sounds like far too much effort.”

“You should see his legs, his thighs are surprisingly thick for such a slim man.”

“Oh my god! Mrs Harris!”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, call me Maggie.”

I covered my face as my cheeks burned and an uncontrollable grin of embarrassment broke across my face, so wide that it made my facial muscle ache.

It went without saying that I’d noticed him as he went about his day, sometimes I’d spot him on the street or tending to his front garden that had gone unseen to for months whilst the place was vacant.

I’d also seen the beautiful German shepherd he looked after as it ran up and down the closed off gate, greeting everyone who walked past her new territory with a warning bark that she was there to protect her master at all costs.

To say that I hadn’t noticed that the new guy was decently handsome would have been a total lie, of course I had, I just never had a reason to speak to him beyond a friendly smile, wave or nod in passing.

“His name is Robert.”

“Hm?” I looked up at her as she broke the silence after my initial embarrassment had faded and we both went back to our cake.

“His name is Robert, I believe his dog is called China.”

“Oh,” I nodded with a small smile, “she is a gorgeous dog.”

“To go with a gorgeous owner,” Mrs Harris sniggered, “you love dogs, don’t you? It’s the perfect opportunity.”

I let out a drawn sigh and shook my head a little, turning my attention back towards my depleting food.

What with her and Thomas both being convinced that I should befriend this guy, I was beginning to think that perhaps it was time to bite the bullet and see what made him so interesting.

With the way that Mrs Harris was gushing about him, he had to be something pretty special.


	8. The Neighbour - Modern AU - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was going to be out much sooner, but my laptop had to go to the computer hospital. I hope it was worth the wait!

Another two weeks passed before I finally crossed paths with the ever elusive Robert.

I had been on my way home from a tiring shift, happily lost in the world of my own music when a large ball of fur pounced at me and proceeded to lick my face as if greeting an old friend.

“Well hello to you too,” I laughed, stroking the dog’s back whilst trying to turn my face away from the slobbering onslaught.

Further down the path behind her I could hear rapid footsteps approaching, accompanied by yells of the dog’s name and light scolding.

“China, get down!”

It took a second for the name to click, but when it did I realised that this was the new dog on the street and the name sounded familiar after my talk with Mrs Harris.

Pale fingers grabbed onto her collar and carefully pulled the large wad of fur off of me, mumbling multiple apologies.

“I’m so sorry, she slipped out of her lead right as we reached home.”

“It’s fine,” I smiled, waving my hand dismissively, “I’m a dog person so it’s no biggie.”

He gave me an almost bashful smile then turned his attention back to the gorgeous German Shepherd, crouching down to fasten the collar back around her fluffy neck.

As he crouched, I found that my eyes automatically moved to rove over his figure.

He was pretty tall and slim yet obviously still fit, his shirt fitting tighter in some places than others and there was more to appreciate about him from behind that it’d be uncouth to talk about in public.

“Oh man, I’ve been spending too much time with Thomas,” I mumbled to myself.

“What was that?”

I snapped my attention back to him as he stood up, some of his dark blond waves falling into his face in the process and causing him to frown and brush them away.

“Seems it’s time for a haircut,” I joked, attempting to divert the subject.

“Yeah,” he huffed out a laugh, “I’ve been meaning to go for a while, but what with moving and starting a new job it’s proven a little difficult.”

“I can only imagine,” I smiled, “well it’s nice to finally meet you, it’s Robert right?”

“Don’t tell me, Mrs Harris?”

“Naturally, she is our street gossip and she’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Only good things I hope.”

“Oh no, terrible, terrible things.”

“I knew it,” he sighed dramatically.

It was wonderful to finally have a formal introduction to my new neighbour after all this time, so far he definitely lived up to what Mrs Harris had been nattering on about.

He was definitely a good looking man and he seemed easy to get alone with, not to mention his adorable dog.

“Anyway I should probably get inside and showered.”

I nodded to his statement and stepped around him, “I guess I can walk you partially home then.”

We turned back towards our homes and headed down the path together with China in front of us, pulling on her lead and glancing back every now and then to check that we’re still safely behind her.

It was momentarily silent, a moment I took to study Robert much closer.

From up close it was even more striking how he looked just like Thomas, only his hair was lighter and he looked significantly less deceased.

In a flickering second his eyes connected with mine and I found my cheeks burning at being caught staring, so I decided to try and talk to avoid any awkwardness.

“You know, you look like-”

“Don’t tell me, that actor who played that guy in the thing.”

I stared at him for a moment then laughed, shaking my head a little.

“How eloquently put.”

“What can I say? I have a way with words.”

“Oh, I noticed,” I smiled with a roll of my eyes, “so you watched the documentary then?”

We came to a stop outside his house and he turned to face me as he fumbled for his keys in his surprisingly deep pocket.

“Yes, I’ve always been fascinated by the history of Allerdale Hall.”

“Me too, that’s why I moved into the house refurbished using pieces of the original building.”

“Wait,” he stopped and looked towards my house, a new light coming into his eyes, “this is where Allerdale Hall once stood?”

“Yeup,” I grinned proudly towards my own house, “pretty cool, huh?”

“Very much so,” he hummed in agreement, still staring my home, “hey, do you drink tea?”

I laughed at the typically British question, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, I do indeed drink tea.”

“Alright,” he smiled, “what’s your poison?”

“Oh, I don’t have a specific brand, Asda’s own is fine by me.”

“What? No, I won’t have that,” he laughed, shaking his head with a playful look of disgust, “come over sometime and I’ll show you what true tea is.”

“True tea being what exactly? Earl Grey?”

He gave a coy tilt of his head and his mouth twitched into an almost guilty look.

“Oh my god,” I laughed, throwing my head back a little, “you’re so stereotypically British!”

“I prefer the term quintessential, but is that such a bad thing?”

“No, if anything it’s oddly adorable, now will there be biscuits?”

“I’m offended you’d even ask.”

“I just have to make sure there’s something to entice me over.”

“Ah, much needed biscuits always seal that deal.”

“Precisely.”

“Wonderful, how about tomorrow evening? You can come over for tea and we’ll discuss your house.”

I nodded eagerly and stepped towards the curb, preparing to cross the road, “It’s a date.”

Robert gave a small tip of his head then bid goodbye and headed indoors as I waved and walked to my own home knowing that Thomas would be excited that I’d made a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure of whether to make another part to this one, but if it's wanted I happily would.


	9. Late Hour Guest

Robert sighed and rolled closer to the edge of the bed, the body heat of the woman sleeping beside him not helping his own comfort within the seemingly unending heat wave.

Even sleeping naked with the windows wide proved futile in attempts to keep cool.

He felt sticky and disgusting barely minutes after he’d had a cold shower that evening after work, although he doubted their random bought of sex before bed did anything to help.

They had both washed up after, flopped onto the still messy bed and drifted off in next to no time, only for Robert to find himself awake barely three hours later feeling groggy and even more disgusting than he had earlier.

The soft snore coming from beside him was evident enough that he was the only one struggling with rest and he envied his girlfriend for sleeping so soundly, though a small part of him felt a sense of pride that he was probably part of the reason she was so tired.

His arm hung over the side of the bed, his eyes still firmly shut in the hopes that if he tricked his body enough then maybe he’d fall asleep.

Robert shifted again in the bed with a small grunt, feeling his skin stick to the bed sheet beneath him and instantly feeling a little worse until he felt a harsh breeze come in through the window which instantly relieved him and helped make his fatigued body feel that little bit more tired.

After what he estimated to be a few minutes, Robert could finally feel himself beginning to doze off, his eyes were welcomingly heavy and he felt his body relax into the clammy bed.

He had managed to reach a state of near sleep when he felt fingers running through his hair, catching in the sweat matted waves and brushing through them until they were satisfied that they knots were cleared and moved to another set of locks.

“I was actually beginning to sleep then,” he slurred sleepily, turning his head towards his girlfriend and opening his eyes just a bit.

In front of him lay his sleeping girlfriend, her back facing him and her arms tucked towards her chest and behind him, he felt another tug on his hair at the back of his head.

Robert moved his head, thinking in his heat exhausted stupor that perhaps his hair had caught on something from behind that he hadn’t noticed previously, but when the feeling moved from the tugging of tangles to a cold pressure running over his body he found himself wide awake once again and more alert than before.

The pressure, which felt reminiscent of a hand’s touch, moved slowly along the back of his neck, over his shoulder and moved down his back.

It was getting close to his barely covered rear when he finally rolled over to shimmy the feeling off, from the corner of his eye as he moved Robert noticed a strange shroud of something that was darker than the darkness within the bedroom that was only minorly broken by the faintest of lights coming from a streetlight outside.

He finally got his wish of cooling off as his blood ran cold.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the outline of a figure that loomed over him, cold fingers resting on top of his hip, the black contrasting against his pale skin.

Robert watched as strange wisps seemed to rise up from the hand, eventually reaching up to a point where they blended in with the rest of the darkness within the room.

The figure over him seemed to twitch a little, its head tilting as he leaned over and grew ever closer to his face.

The closer it got, the colder he began to feel.

A strange rasping breath seemed to be coming out of them, Robert felt his heart beginning to pound uncomfortably in his chest and his breathing seemed to become something more akin to jittered huffs.

“Thomas,” the female whispered in a hauntingly serene voice, “you are just as beautiful as I remember you.”

Robert let out a cry and pushed himself backwards, abruptly knocking into the woman behind him and jolting her from her slumber.

“Robert?” She asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes before turning around to face his general direction, “what’s going on?”

She reached behind her and plucked her phone off the top of the bedside table to the left of the bed, adjusting her grip on it she pressed a small button on the side of the plastic device so that the screen partially illuminated the room.

Rolling back into a comfortable position she shone the light towards Robert’s side of the bed, lighting up the black figure.

The expression on the spectre’s sunken face was dark and unwelcoming as she glared towards the female laying naked beside Robert.

“Oh, it’s Lucille,” she sighed tiredly, letting the light fade.

“Lucille?” Robert croaked, moving as far away as he could without squishing his girlfriend.

“Yes, Lady Lucille Sharpe, she haunts this place.”

“I thought it was just her brother,” he cried in exasperation.

“Thomas,” Lucille murmured again, leaning forward and reaching out a hand for Robert once again.

“No, Lucille,” the living woman sighed, closing her eyes, “that isn’t your brother, you know where Thomas is.”

The ghost merely continued to glower at the other woman, her fingers grazing over Robert’s hip bone, making him tense up as his eyes widened in worry.

“What is she doing?” He squeaked, watching her hand like a hawk.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the hand was pulled back and Lucille’s wait shifted off of the bed as Thomas carefully took her to one side, staring towards the two with a look of apology.

“I’m sorry about her,” Thomas spoke, his voice soft and full of apology, “she simply can’t let go.”

“It’s okay, Thomas,” she replied, wrapping an arm around Robert and nuzzling into the back of his neck, “mistakes happen.”

“Indeed,” the ghost nodded in agreement before carefully leading his sister from the room, giving them a final, “goodnight.”

Robert stared towards the door incredulously for a lapsed amount of time, his heart still racing and sleep now being the furthest thing from his mind.

He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to live here,” he laughed nervously, though he was only met with another soft snore.


	10. On A Dark Foggy Night at A Quarter to Three - Halloween Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween special that is turning out much longer than I anticipated, so here is part one and part two will come out on October 30th (as I won't be here on Halloween to post it).  
> Inspired by Corpse Bride and the lyrics from Remains of the Day; "Our girl was a beauty known for miles around, when a mysterious stranger came into town. He's plenty good looking, but down on his cash and our poor little baby, she fell hard and fast."

The town was dark and dreary the night that he had arrived.

Not that that was unusual, the town was always dark and dreary.

It’s how we liked it.

The air of the weather was mixed with a buzz of excitement, many monsters gathered around the graveyard and chattered amongst themselves eagerly.

Everyone guessing what the new resident was going to be.

“I think it’ll be a pond monster,” one gremlin cackled, her voice harsh to the ears.

“Like a Loch Ness?” A bird skulled man replied, shaking his skinned head, “we have no space for such a creature.”

“We’d have to accommodate it, make a big lake or something!” Yelled a Chupacabra in a too shrill voice.

I slipped through the crowd easily, as ignored as always, just how I liked it.

I was a ghost to the monsters around me, though physically I was only partially ghost, a terrible mix and match of bits and pieces all put together into one being.

One of the new residents who joined us had referred to me as; “Like that Sally chick,” but I had no idea to who she was referring.

I’m guessing they came from a time long after my own.

That’s the thing about the people in our town.

We were once all human, alive and breathing in another world.

When we died, in many ways that were quite enthralling to listen to, we were chosen to come here for reasons unknown to any of us and twisted into things we once never were and although we all had died, we never appeared in the chronological order of our deaths as many were ready to move on to ‘the other side’ before others who lingered longer were.

The ones who were twisted physically into something beyond human rarely appeared to miss who they once were, but to see someone mourning the loss of their human appearance was a heart-breaking scene to witness.

They would grow accustomed to their new form in time and slip into their new roles, but the times in between were terrible.

I feared for the new resident and prayed to a being I didn’t believe in that they wouldn’t be tormented by the change, should they have changed drastically at all.

“Movement!”

The yell from deep amongst the graves caused the excited chatter to get louder and the residents began to move through the yard, heading towards the two zombies whose job it was to keep track of new arrivals.

A wooden stick with a lantern hanging off an embedded hook was shoved into the ground, giving the residents a sign of where the movement had been noted.

The crowd soon shifted through the graveyard until everyone had reached the stone and made a circle around it, watching as the soil shifted from the new resident having to crawl out from their grave.

No one knew why this was how we were welcomed here, but it was a tradition long held and no one questioned the first ever resident.

I managed to shuffle my way to the front, wringing my mismatched hands together as the typical bitter wind picked up and chilled my technically still dead flesh.

My eyes roam over the gravestone that was barely lit up by the lantern hanging over it, I had to lean down closer and squint my eyes to see what it said.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” I hummed out softly, not that anyone would have minded me anyway.

It almost seemed as if the reading of his name summoned him from the grave, as barely a second after the words passed my lips did a deathly pale hand claw its way out from the dirt, the fingers curling and dirty fingernails grasping onto the soil beneath them to grip and heave.

No one moved to help, as was custom for the new residents.

They had to fight their way out by themselves, another thing I never understood but still abided by.

We all watched in fascination as he dragged himself slowly from the grave, grunts, pants and groans of effort filling the air as his torso broke the surface.

“Oh, it’s a ghost,” the closest vampire sighed with a roll of his eyes. 

He then turned to the rest of the surrounding crowd to address them and held his arms up to gain attention, “It’s a ghost!” He repeated, this time loud enough for it to echo across the group.

The residents grumbled and turned away, making comments about what they had hoped would be the new resident.

Even the zombies packed up and moved towards their home, what had originally been a small hut to hold three but had had extensions added on as more zombies came out of the ground.

This left only me stood before him, the lantern light gradually fading until darkness invaded my vision and I could just barely make out the silhouette of the new resident.

I stole a glance around me to confirm that I was alone before stepping forward and bending down, taking hold of one of his arms and tugging to help him pull himself the rest of the way out.

Once he was free, he knelt on the floor and stared at the ground motionlessly, his head hung.

“Are you okay?” I asked in concern.

He flinched and looked up towards me, though he still said nothing.

Presuming it to be the shock of having to dig himself out of his own grave, something that shook even the steeliest amongst us, I offered a smile I doubted he could see and gently took his arm once again.

“Come,” I said softly, leading him to stand, “I shall bring you home and tell you what is happening.”

He stumbled to his feet and I gave him a moment to adjust, his swaying giving me enough evidence that perhaps he needed a moment’s break after what he’d just been through.

I took the moment to admire his height, he was definitely going to be one of the taller residents by the way his silhouette loomed over me.

My eyes were beginning to adjust more to the darkness now, though there was no moonlight that could help me decipher if what I believed I was picking out in details was true or just a trick of the shadows.

I would just have to wait until we were inside to see if my mind was creating the features I believed that I could see.

“Are you ready to go now?” I asked.

“I think I am,” he replied, the softness of his voice throwing me off for a moment.

It was a gently yet somehow husky voice that was smooth, for reasons beyond me it caused me to smile and my stomach to flutter.

“Wonderful, let me show you my home.”

I let go of his arm and stepped away, glancing back after a few paces to make sure that he was following after me.

We made it out of the graveyard in silence, only the sound of our scuffing shoes on the dead leaves that were strewn across the ground alleviated the dead quiet that surrounded us.

Another thing he would have to get accustomed to.

I led him through the town, past the warped and twisted houses with dead tress in front and the park that housed many pet graves with animal spirits who loved to come out and play with visitors.

It was calming walking through the town when no one else was around, it gave me a sense of freedom.

I looked towards my home with a sigh, the building as twisted and mismatched as my own body parts, but still I pulled out a key and stepped up the few stairs to unlock the door.

“This is my home,” I said over my shoulder, pushing the door open and turning on the light in the hall, “I’m afraid it’s not much, but it’ll do until they assign you a home.”

“Anything is better than out there,” he commented, stepping into the hallway and looking around.

I gave a small shrug and a smile of agreement, closing the door behind him as he stepped further in.

The new and better lighting gave me a chance to take him in fully.

As I had concluded in the dim light of the graveyard he was tall, though everyone was tall compared to my small stature, but he was definitely tall and lean.

To say that he stood out amongst the dark colours I had decorated my home in would be an understatement, he was a dirty white for the most part, but a mixture whites and greys that stood out against every other colour in the room.

This was only accentuated by the rustic colours of his clothes, particularly his waistcoat.

He turned in a slow circle until he was facing me again, I used this chance to take in his features.

They were gaunt to say the least.

His sunken eyes were pale but I imagine beautiful when sparked with life, his thin lips were set in a downcast curve that made him look saddened.

Dirt darkened his hair, that was long and waved just enough to frame his face which brought out his sunken cheekbones further.

A wound underneath his left eye seeped blood which floated into the air and disappeared, the eye above it had blood that wept out and trailed down his cheek.

“You’re staring.”

His voice broke me from my reverie and my eyes flickered up, making eye contact with his.

“Ah, I am, I apolgise.”

“No need,” he replied, “I probably would have stared myself.”

He lifts his hands and looks them over, like they aren’t his and each digit has ridges and bumps that are completely foreign to him.

I knew that feeling all too well.

Being made up of other parts made it easy to replace them if things were to happen, but you at times would lose a sense of yourself and this was something I had experienced four times within my six years of being here.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked as a means of distraction.

He looks at me and gives me a friendly smile, one that makes him look significantly more handsome than his forlorn expression.

“I would love one, thank you.”

“Alright, I have all sorts of stuff, even tradition non-creepy town ones, like coffee, juice, tea-”

“No tea.”

My eyes widen in surprise at the tone he answered with, one that was sharp and final, a hard look replacing the smile from barely seconds ago.

“Okay, no tea then.”

Thomas frowned and looked away from me, that sad expression returning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that harshly, it’s just some bad experiences I’ve had.”

“With tea?”

“More involving tea, but yes.”

“Then how about some hot chocolate? I mean we could have some eye juice or brain smoothie, but I’m trying to be less creepy,” I laughed, hoping it’d lighten the air a little bit.

The smile returned, a little smaller this time, but still there as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

“That sounds a little disgusting, I suppose some eye juice will have to do.”

I smiled at his joke and turned away, heading through the corridor and turning right into a room at the end of the long hall.

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded my head towards the door and indicated for him to follow me in, which at first he seemed reluctant to do.

“Nothing in here is going to bite,” I offered in a friendly tone, hoping to relax him, “at least most things, don’t touch any plants.”

“I am not afraid of thing which may bite,” he replied, stepping into the crooked doorway just as I took a worn pan from the cupboard beside my feet, “I am just unaccustomed to some of the things you have around here.”

“That is no surprise,” I hummed, turning on an oven ring and setting the pan down on top, “I can judge by your clothes that you aren’t from the time that most of these things were made.”

“It is quite terrifying.”

“I can imagine, but you will adjust and you will be fine.”

“Where exactly is this place?”

“Well,” I sighed softly, opening the cupboard and taking out a pot of powder, “take a seat and we shall discuss things over our drinks.”


	11. On A Dark Foggy Night at A Quarter to Three - Halloween Special - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of three.

“So this is where you’re living now? It’s amazing.”

I gazed around at the large foyer, its sweeping stairs and the high ceiling.

“It reminds me of home,” Thomas smiled wistfully, almost sadly.

“You lived in a place like this?”

“I did,” he nodded, running a pale hand along the banister of the stairs, “with my sister.”

“Oh, so you were proper Victorian then.”

“I suppose?”

The way his face scrunched up a little in confusion made me smile and, though I wouldn’t admit it, giggle a little.

Thomas had been the new resident for three weeks, the first night he stayed with me until he was summoned to the town hall by our mayor, a strikingly tall man with too thin limbs and a face always hidden within a long dark cloak, and his new home was assigned and he could move in.

Boy did he hit the jackpot.

For as long as I’d lived in the town there had been this old, rundown and definitely haunted looking building that I could only describe as a mansion that stood empty, just waiting for the perfect resident to come along and give it some well needed horror.

The outside was what I’d always imagined if someone would say; “Describe the haunted house in a horror film.”

A tall building of many floors built with almost black bricks and covered in dark, splintered wooden panels, windows that had wooden shutters that didn’t close properly and clattered against the building when the wind picked up.

The ceiling was high and pointed and a few floors had doors that led to dangerous looking balconies, just waiting for a resident to throw a normal over.

It was absolutely perfect and I was glad that Thomas got it, his ghostly image definitely fit in well with the rustic browns and reds of the inside of the house.

With its peeling away wallpaper, haunted portraits and moving shadows, it was every bit as ghostly as he was.

“I think you got off damn well, this place is awesome! I’m a little jealous.”

“I can tell by your enthusiasm,” he smiled, his face instantly brightening up.

I liked it when he smiled, he was so handsome and it seemed a shame that it was usually contorted with sadness, there was beauty in sorrow but sometimes more is needed.

To say that I’d kind of taken to Thomas over the weeks would have been an understatement, we had grown closer over the weeks and he was the first resident to give me attention that lasted more than a few minutes.

That’s the problem with cliques, they stuck together hard and fast, it was almost like being back in school and it went without saying that ghosts were too boring and people stitched up with other people’s parts weren’t exactly high on the social list of acceptable.

Who knew that even dead people were judgemental?

“Have you managed to talk to anyone else?”

Thomas looks at me and gives a light shrug.

“A few residents here or there, a lot of them don’t seem the friendliest bunch.”

“Is that a surprise considering we’re all literal monsters?”

“I suppose not.”

We shared a laugh and my borrowed stomach flutters, it was moments like this that I enjoyed being alone with Thomas, even if that was most of the time.

“Though I do have to ask,” he continued, looking at me with a pleading look, “has anyone called Lucille Sharpe arrived here?”

I tilted my head and regarded him for a moment, pulling my lips towards my stitched right cheek and frowning as I ran names through my head.

“No, I’m sorry but I think you’re the only Sharpe here.”

A mixture of emotions flashed across his face, something that was between relief and sorrow.

“I see, and is there an Edith Cushing?”

I shook my head and gave a light shrug, pulling what I hoped was a look of understanding apology.

“Sorry, no.”

He nodded and licked his bottom lip, giving a heavy sigh.

“Of course, I should have known she wouldn’t have ended up in a place like this.”

My heart lurched a little at his words and I couldn’t stop myself from frowning, glancing him over while trying to convince myself that his words didn’t have the connotations that it sounded like they did.

Judgemental, disapproving, disgusted.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked softly.

Thomas’ expression became one of what appeared to be sudden understanding and then shifted to a scowled look of regret, like someone who had just put their foot in their mouth and knew it.

“I didn’t mean it badly, I just meant that she is too pure for this town.”

“Pure? As in the people here all wronged in their lives and that’s why we came here?”

“No,” he sighed, fumbling for words before giving up, “she just shouldn’t be here.”

“And she isn’t, so I guess she’s saved from us.”

“That is not at all how I meant it.”

“That’s how it came across.”

“I can only apologise, I suppose I am merely projecting for what I did when I was alive.”

“And what exactly did you do to make you think everyone here is a literal monster?”

I folded my arms, I knew I was getting defensive and could feel the tenseness that was set in my face, but I was genuinely feeling offended.

Thomas stares at me silently, I’d imagine mentally contemplating whether he should reveal all to me or remain silent. 

I knew his decision had been made when he shook his head and looked away.

“I can’t tell you, you would think ill of me,” the saddened frown returned and I didn’t care for a second that I was the one pushing it.

“Of course,” I rolled my eyes, feeling my anger flare that little bit more, “then I’ll tell you what, when you stop being such a self-loathing piece of work, you can come and find me.”

Storming out and speaking to him so badly was something I regretted for the rest of that night, I felt awful and could barely sleep through the guilt that burned in my chest when I thought it all over.

I had taken things too personally and acted irrationally, upsetting Thomas when all he needed in this town was a friend.

I needed one as well.

In the hopes of finally getting some sleep, I told myself that the next day I would go and apologise.


	12. On A Dark Foggy Night at A Quarter to Three - Halloween Special - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already Halloween here in the old UK when I post this, so I hope everyone enjoys the day of spook whatever you do!

Raising my knuckles, I take a deep breath before knocking on the door, wondering if he would even hear it from deep inside the house.

As I stepped back and waited for any signs of life behind the wooden block I picked at the stitches on my right wrist, a habit I knew I needed to stop before I accidentally lost a limb somewhere in town.

After a period of too slow time, I deduced that he probably wasn’t going to answer and turned to leave, looking over my shoulder with a frown.

For a moment, I thought that I could see Thomas stood at one of the windows on the second floor, staring down at me as I walked away but I pushed that thought to one side and told myself that I was seeing things.

Two long days dragged out and I still hadn’t heard anything of him.

It was proving hard to concentrate on anything as my worry kept building, but I told myself not to keep attempting to visit, that he would come to me if or when he was ready.

Late into the third day of me being unable to concentrate on the book I was reading, a knock sounded at the door drew my attention away from the page I was reading for the third time in ten minutes.

Placing the worn bookmark between the pages, I closed the book and set it to one side while removing my glasses, a circumstance of having eyes that weren’t your own was that the chances of your eyesight being more than skewed by the reattached nerves was strikingly high, I set those atop the book and then got up to head to the door.

I would have been lying if I said that seeing Thomas on the other side of the door was a surprise, it was rare that other residents came to visit me.

Off the top of my head I could think of three that I had what I could consider a friendship with, but even then we weren’t what I would call close.

“Hello,” I said in a tone that I hoped came across as calm but friendly.

“Good afternoon, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, I was just reading.”

“I should have guessed,” he laughed, glancing down at the doorstep between us before he cleared his throat, “may I come in?”

“Yes, sure,” I nodded and stepped to one side, allowing him in.

As he walked into my hallway, it reminded me of the night that he dug himself out and I brought him home, the night our friendship started.

I pushed the door closed behind me, waiting for the crooked and oddly shaped door to clunk into the frame before moving through the hall and going back to the living room.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting?”

“Someone said they saw you outside my home earlier,” he explained, sitting down on the nearest chair as I took my spot on the end of my worn couch, “I thought it only polite that I came to see what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t aware anyone had spotted me.”

“That would be no surprise here,” he offered a friendly smile, making me think that everything that had happened the other day was water under the bridge.

“You have a point,” I nodded, looking at him before sighing loudly, “I came to apologise about how I acted the other day.”

“Oh, there’s really no need.”

“There is, I overreacted and took offense when I shouldn’t have.”

“But I can understand why, what I said could have been construed that way.”

“A little, but I should have stopped and thought about it before going off on you.”

“As I shouldn’t have accused the residents of being both physical and moral monsters.”

A silence falls over us, a mutually accepted apology sitting between us.

Something about the way Thomas is looking at me tells me that that isn’t all, that there’s something else playing on his mind as he fiddles with the bandage that covered his right hand.

I don’t want to push him, even if I am curious about what is running through his head.

“I have something I need to confess,” he finally said, his voice quiet.

“Alright, I’m always here to listen.”

He looked up from the bandage, his eyes full of sorrow and uncertainty, his tongue darting out to quickly run along his bottom lip.

“I did truly think, to begin with, that everyone was sent here to repent for something and that was why we were twisted into these other beings,” Thomas took a deep breath and waited a moment before continuing, “I thought maybe we were made to look like monsters for acting like them in life.”

“But you are merely a ghost, hardly twisted.”

“Hardly looking alive either, this gaunt face is just barely one I can recognize as my own.”

I frowned and nodded slowly, indicating for him to continue.

“But this is because I associate how I appear with what caused it, my sister killing me for daring to love another and wanting to help her escape from the sordid affairs we had gotten ourselves caught up in.”

I swallowed thickly, “What do you mean?”

“My sister, Lucille, and I would trick women from foreign countries into marriage and move them to England so that she may poison them and we would inherit any money from their estate after their death.”

“That’s awful.”

“I’m aware and I do truly regret it, but perhaps not as much as I should have, at least not until Edith came along.”

“Edith being who you mentioned the other day?”

“Yes,” he smiled a gut-wrenching smile that didn’t meet his eyes, though the admiration and love for her shone through them, “she was the only one I truly fell for, the only one who made me realise that what Lucille and I were doing was despicable.”

My mind was racing as it processed what he was saying, the revelations being much more than I had anticipated.

“I never would have thought you would have done such a thing.”

“We all have our demons, some bigger than others.”

“Yes, but not everyone has murder on their hands.”

“It was selfish, I’m fully aware, but it was the only way we could stay together after everything that happened with mother,” the look he gave me was one of desperation, “Lucille was all I had and her me and now I’m stuck here, alone in a manor too much like my own from when I was living.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you asked the other day and I needed someone to know, someone to talk to because being in that house in silence is driving me insane.”

He ran a hand through his white hair and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I have done many things I shouldn’t be forgiven for, I don’t know why I’ve been sent to a place like this but I don’t believe I deserve it.”

I stared at him as he calmed down a little now that his little rambling session was over, my eyes roamed over him and I felt the need to comfort him and make sure that he knew things would be okay.

Getting up from my spot, I moved across the room and sat on the arm of the chair he was resting in.

Placing my hand on his arm, I give him a soft smile as he opens his eyes to look up at me.

“A man like me doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

“The man you once were is dead, Thomas, you are now a mere resident and your past life means nothing.”

“I don’t feel that I deserve it.”

“By the sounds of it, Edith would disagree.”

“I would severely doubt that by the end of it.”

I sighed and began to run my fingers through his hair, letting my own eyes fall closed as I lounged against the back of the chair.

“If you will allow me to, I would love to show you that everyone can have a chance to start again.”

My eyes opened again when I felt his own hand take hold of the one I had rested on my lap, his deathly pale fingers giving my own blue and grey ones a light squeeze.

“How could you possibly do that?”

“For starters,” I hummed, adjusting our hands so that I could lace our fingers and hold onto his for reassurance, “we can make sure that you aren’t so alone with your thoughts in that huge house.”

He shifted his gaze from our entwined hands back up to my face and gave me a halfhearted smile, tightening his grip on my fingers.

“I would greatly appreciate that.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled widely, the stretch almost threatening to split the stitches that run up the left side of my cheek from the corner of my mouth, “I’ll show you that not all monsters are bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: If anyone does put a comment on this particular chapter, I will not answer until Thursday. I am going on a ghost tour with my best friend and then we're going to drink and watch horror films because we're adults in retail and it's how we cope.


	13. Face to Face - Modern AU

I slow down as I reach my home and push open the metal gate, allowing China to step through before I follow behind her.

As always, my eyes travel to the house across the street and my mind jumps to my new neighbour.

For a while now I’ve been wondering about her feelings towards me.

I get that she likes me, she’s always been kind and friendly, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if something has been building gradually over the weeks on her end like it has mine.

What started out as small little quirks I found cute were becoming things that added to a list of what I seem to love about her, all in a completely non-platonic way.

I had wanted to make a move for a while, but one thing stopped me.

It’s not something that has ever came up in conversation, but I have seen them.

When I’d come home from work and looked towards her house, more often than not there would be a man stood at one of the windows, most typically one of the ones on the second floor.

During the conversations we’d had she’d never mentioned having a boyfriend, I didn’t recall her ever mentioning a roommate either, so unless she was moving around a cardboard cut out for reasons only known to her or perhaps to mess with me then I couldn’t help but wonder who they were.

There was something stopping me from asking when we spoke face to face, I felt silly bringing it up out of the blue as it wasn’t really my place to know and the situation to try and raise it as casually as I could never arose.

The few times that I had been invited over, I’d never noticed any signs of a man living in the house or, maybe the more truthful way to put it was that there weren’t any signs of it being a shared residence.

It appeared that she and she alone lived there.

But surely I hadn’t been seeing things the entire time.

But Mrs. Harrison hadn’t mentioned anything and if anyone on the street was sure to know, it was her, she was a lovely woman but we learned quickly that she was what we lovingly called a ‘curtain twitcher’.

Before long, I became too anxious about needing to know the facts to wait any longer about holding my questions off, I needed to know as soon as possible so that I could act accordingly and know where I stood.

It was late evening, going into night, when I ventured across the road, mentally preparing myself for making up an excuse for why I needed to go over in the first place.

I wasn’t an idiot, I knew to go over with some kind of pretence, though I still wasn’t ready by the time I had reached her door and knocked, my body apparently more eager than my mind to see her.

Stepping back, I anxiously waited for a response.

No lights appeared to be on within the house, but I knew that it wasn’t unlike her to turn off the lights and lie in bed either on her laptop or reading one of the three or four books she’d have on the go.

After a long minute of waiting, I deduced that she genuinely must not be home and let out a loaded breath whilst turning to go back home.

I had barely made a step when the door behind me clicked and the giveaway sound of her door handle being pushed down, which had always been a peculiarly loud noise when unlatching, filled the air.

Instantly, all my confidence drained away and my nerves turned into a jittery mess.

“Uh, hello,” I greeted, wincing at the obviously nervous crack in my voice.

I turned on the spot, expecting to see her stood in the doorway, looking at me with a kind but expectant face.

I certainly didn’t expect to be greeted by nothing but a wooden door that was opened slightly ajar, offering me nothing but a small glimpse of the darkness within the house.

Against my better judgement and in a move that would have people yelling at their screens about, I stepped forward and gently pushed the door open a little further, poking my head inside to call out to her.

Upon not receiving a response, I stepped inside and quietly pushed the door to behind myself.

It wasn’t the smartest idea that I had ever had, but the sudden image of her place being ransacked by a thief flashed in my mind’s eye and I now felt obligated to check for her.

Not that I was a man of particular courage, but something inside my flared up and told me to go, all the while trying to ignore my rapidly beating heart and the jittering of my nerves at the thought of confrontation.

Maybe idiotically, I called out to warn anyone who was in the house that I was there too and that it would be wise for them to leave, but I heard no scuffling or thuds that would indicate that anyone else was around.

It appeared as though I was well and truly alone in the house and that, if she came home to catch me, would look more than a little suspicious.

With a nod of finality, I decided that my being here was no longer needed and turned around to leave.

Much like earlier, however, I didn’t see what I expect to.

I had expected to be greeted by nothing but darkness and shadowed furniture and instead, I came almost nose to nose with a spectre of pure white.

He stood out amongst the darkness, not quite glowing but with a definite light that I could only explain as ethereal.

His mouth was set in a line and his eyes were sad, yet they seemed to be inspecting me with a hint of curiosity.

I let out a startled yell and stumbled backwards, my legs hitting the coffee table and my eyes remaining trained on this man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I see that you accepted my invitation,” he said in a voice tone that was both soft but wanting of an explanation.

I wish I could have offered one to him, but I found myself both fearful and stunned at coming face to face with a man who looked too alive to be dead, but too dead to be alive.

My voice caught in my throat for a moment and I found myself awkwardly choking on the words, making a strange garbled noise in the back of my throat.

“Uh, I…um…”

He continued to stare, probably waiting for me to respond.

When I didn’t, he huffed out a laugh and averted his eyes.

“I apologise, I’m sure that my appearance must be startling to you.”

I could only nod dumbly, I couldn’t be entirely sure if my mouth was hanging open or not.

“I just felt that it was time for us to meet.”

“You decided that?” I finally managed to sputter out, “Why?”

“A certain friend of mine, owner of this house I believe, has taken a shine to you.”

“She has?”

He smiled and nodded, “It would appear so, I’ve seen the way she looks at you from her window.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say, I was completely and utterly dumbstruck at what was happening.

My heart wouldn’t stop racing and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from this gaunt looking man before me, I knew that I was being rude but I had never in my years believed in spirits and coming face to face with something that could only be described as a ghost was mind breaking.

Everything was taking its time to process and that in itself made me feel even more uncomfortable, I was trying to convince myself that this was some kind of set up but I couldn’t logically think of how or why anyone would go this far just for a conversation.

“Who are you?” I ended up asking dumbly.

“My name is Thomas Sharpe, previous owner of what was once my estate, Allerdale Hall.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him.

This couldn’t be real, it had to be a trick.

My mind was reeling and nothing was clear, nothing apart from the fact that I had to get out of here and settle my nerves.

Ghosts weren’t real, he wasn’t real.

This was all a trick.

It had to be.


End file.
